


It's just a jacket

by ScilesMcCallinski (orphan_account)



Category: Life with Derek
Genre: Episode Related, F/M, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Leather Jackets, Light Angst, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 03:32:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18770332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ScilesMcCallinski
Summary: "Why?" Casey asks, letting her confusion visibly grow as she draws her brows together. Throwing in a touch of worry, she looks back down at the jacket again and adds, "does it not look okay? I've never really worn a leather jacket before, so it's a little weird, but I thought it went alright. Should I change the top? It's the purple, isn't it?"Derek's eyebrows furrow as he sputters, "What — No. It's not the purple, it's the fact that that is my jacket, which your little sister stole from me. You can't wear my jacket."





	It's just a jacket

Being surprised by the level that Derek will drop to on a daily basis despite her thinking he can't go any further is just another little thing that she's gotten used to in the past few years. But stealing her dream diary and not only telling Truman what was in it but lying right to her face about it as well?

That's a whole new level of low. Pissed doesn't even begin to describe how she's feeling about him. 

In contrast, allowing Lizzie to swipe his precious leather jacket from the coat hook when he isn't looking doesn't seem that bad in her mind. To him, she's obviously committed the ultimate sin. A crime punishable by a lifetime of Derek's creative forms of torture. 

Truman knowing she's been dreaming about him is the worst thing she could think of. He can do his worst. 

That thought is exactly what spurs her on. Stealing the jacket, de-zippering it and refusing to tell Derek where it is so that he can't go out isn't nearly enough. It's annoying him, sure, as he's making very clear right now from downstairs, the TV blaring over the music in her headphones.

But it's not giving him the same level of pure outrage and fury that was twisting and turning inside of her earlier at school — it's mostly died down now, but only because her focus has shifted. To sweet, justifiable revenge that, really, won't even come close to being as completely unacceptable and wrong as what he did. She would never sink that low. 

The idea that pops into her mind, however... do-able and not worthy of punishment from her mom or George.

She throws her headphones onto the bed and climbs off, hurrying out of her room and swinging into Lizzie's. Her cellphone's already in her hand, the first three digits of Emily's number already pushed.

"Hey, Liz," she says, making her look up at her from the book in her lap, "where did you put Derek's jacket? I have a plan, and I just know it's going to make him mad, so..."

Lizzie's eyebrows raise a little but a curious, half-mischievous smile flickers across her face. "Sounds good." 

She sets her book aside and crosses the room. Casey glances down at her phone and finishes typing in Emily's number. She hits call and holds the phone to her ear as she watches Lizzie pull back her curtains. 

It rings for two beats then there's the tell-tale crackle of the call being picked up.

"Em, hey," she greets quickly before her best friend can question her, "so, do you have plans? For, like, right now?"

Lizzie turns back to her, a bundle of familiar leather now in her hand. Casey raises her eyebrows, impressed, and makes a mental note to question Lizzie on her mysterious curtain hiding place. 

"Uh, no?" Emily responds, her confusion in her voice. "Why? Do you wanna come over or something?"

"I was thinking more that we could go out," Casey says as Lizzie walks over to her. She takes the jacket from her hands and smiles at her in thanks. "Anywhere works. Even just a walk around the block. Whatever you want."

She turns from Lizzie's doorway, taking a step down the hall, then another as Emily audibly thinks it over. If she shoots her down, that means she'll have to go down the route of attempting to lie to Derek's face with some flimsy excuse that he'll call bullshit on right away, ruining her devious plan. 

Thankfully, Emily comes through. 

"Sure," she says, and Casey closes her eyes, clutching the jacket tighter in triumph with a silent cheer. "Smelly Nelly's should still be open. I've been wanting to try that new lemon cake they've got in anyway."

"Great!" Casey says excitedly, throwing the hand with the jacket out as she continues down the hall. "Meet you outside."

Emily agrees and she hangs up. She quickly slips her phone into her pocket before hurrying to the top of the stairs. The TV's still blaring, and from here, she can hear every single word of the show that Derek's watching from his chair. Something with a crime and girls and Casey isn't really focusing on it. 

She unfolds the jacket and slips it on, carefully flipping her hair out from underneath the collar once it's on. It's strangely comfortable, she thinks, not too baggy on her. It's almost snug but hangs nicely, the sleeves stopping midway down her hands.

The one part she does try to ignore is the familiar smell. She blames that stupid aftershave that Derek insists on using. She'll walk out of her room in the morning and instantly be hit with the strong smell of it. Daily.

The woody, almost cream-like scent clings to the leather, but it's weirdly not as unattractive as she usually finds it. If anything, it actually smells quite nice. 

Shaking herself away from that thought, she straightens up. Her hands run over the leather material, smoothing it out, gripping the hem for a just a second. Then she smiles, confident in her plan, and starts down the stairs. 

The click of the heels she threw on before leaving her bedroom are loud and telling, but Derek doesn't look away from the TV. _Perfect._

"You know, Der, I never understood your obsession with this thing, but now I get it," she says as she reaches the midway point of the stairs, stopping on the little landing. 

"What are you talking about now?" Derek asks without looking back at her, just rocking his chair slightly as he fiddles with the remote in one hand, the other perched underneath his chin. 

She takes the last few steps slow because he's predictable. 

Sure enough, within a second, he's already twisting in his chair and craning his neck to glance at her out of curiosity. His mouth had been in the process of opening, for what Casey is sure was going to be some snarky remark. 

He goes completely still and not one word makes it past his lips for a good few seconds. His eyes are wide as saucers as they land on her, now at the bottom of the stairs. She bites back a smirk, happy that this is going exactly as she planned as she watches his eyes sweep over her. 

In any other situation, she would probably be squirming under the intense stare, right before squaring her shoulders and telling them to keep their eyes to themselves. This, however, was exactly what she was hoping for. 

His face goes through a few different expressions that are too quick for Casey to take note of each and every one. She does take a little pride in the fact that his jaw has dropped though and, even if only for a few blissful seconds, she's made him speechless. 

Satisfied with the reaction, she shoots him a smile then continues on her way to the door. The countdown is already ticking away in her head, waiting for it. Predictable as always, she doesn't make it two steps past the chair before Derek's flying out of it to block her path. 

She halts and forces a mask of irritation and confusion despite how gleeful she is on the inside that it's actually working. Her eyes dart to Derek's hands as he holds them up, pointing vaguely at her. 

"What the hell are you doing?" he asks with a humourless smile. 

Slowly and carefully, she glances down at herself innocently. She tugs on the bottom of it again, pretending to even it out a little more.

"Oh, I'm going out to meet Em," she says, looking back up to meet his disbelieving gaze. "Last minute plans. I'm borrowing your jacket by the way, I hope that's okay?"

"No, that is most definitely _not_ okay," Derek quickly responds, shaking his head frantically.

"Why?" Casey asks, letting her confusion visibly grow as she draws her brows together. Throwing in a touch of worry, she looks back down at the jacket again and adds, "does it not look okay? I've never really worn a leather jacket before, so it's a little weird, but I thought it went alright. Should I change the top? It's the purple, isn't it?"

Derek's eyebrows furrow as he sputters, "What — No. It's not the purple, it's the fact that that is _my_ jacket, which your little sister _stole_ from me. You can't wear my jacket."

"Why not?" Casey argues, now crossing her arms over her chest. She doesn't miss Derek's eyes flicking down for a split second, caught by the movement. "It's cold outside, I need a jacket, and this is the first one I found, not to mention probably the warmest. You'll get it back when I'm home, I promise."

She waits for exactly two seconds, holding his stare as she lets a smug smile settle on her lips. Derek's disbelief only grows, but the words don't seem to want to be voiced, and so she side-steps him. 

The smile threatens to turn to a smirk out of his sight but she does her best to bite it back, cheering on the inside at the start of her victory. 

The countdown starts back up in her head as she slowly makes her way to the door. Any second now, he'll grab her shoulders and spin her back around, demanding that she take it off while blocking the door until she does.

Another thing she's learned in the year of living with him is that his jacket is definitely his most prized possession. Even touching it without permission risks the threat of unrelenting pranking for two weeks straight to the point where no one wants to leave their room for fear of what he'll do next. 

No hand lands on her shoulder. Instead, she gets more sputtering and half-coherent attempts at an argument.

"You can't — that's my — the zipper—" 

She stops right in front of the door, an eyebrow arching as a noise halfway between a sigh and a groan comes from behind her. 

"Just bring it back in one piece, alright? If anything happens to it, I really will read your dream diary out to the entire school."

Casey falters, confused, both eyebrows lowering now. She spins herself around to face him, finding him only a couple of inches closer than she had left him. He's got his arms crossed over his chest but other than that, he looks... not mad. No outrage, fury, complete and utter horror. Nothing.

"Wait, you're just... gonna let me wear it?" She throws her hands out, her eyes narrowing at him. "Just like that?"

Derek sighs again, but his eyes flick up and down again, unnoticeable to the untrained-in-Derek eye. Even then though, she has no idea what's going on in his mind, and she is pretty fluent in the unspoken language of Derek by now. It has her subtly glancing down at herself again for a split second, confusion growing even more. 

When she meets his eyes again, she almost thinks, in a clearly delirious part of her brain, that a smile flits across his lips, lingering at the corners in the form of a slight twitch or two. He shrugs. 

"It's the only thing keeping that outfit from being utterly hideous so I'm doing you a favour," he says, but his voice takes on that tone that she can never decipher. It's forced but _not_ , like he's hiding something underneath his words.

Then again, that doesn't come as much of a surprise to her. This is Derek she's talking about. He never says exactly what he means unless it's insulting or downright disgusting.

"This is only a one-time thing though, alright?" he continues, pointing a finger at her from underneath his arm. "Don't think you can go about stealing my jacket whenever you like. As long as you take care of it tonight, I'll be willing to forget you even _borrowed_ it at all."

She blinks at him, thrown completely off her guard. Derek is never one to yield, not this easily. And never with the implied promise of no consequences later on.

"But..." she starts, her brain practically malfunctioning. 

If Derek could tell, he would be gloating for weeks, which is why she forces herself to try and get a rise out of him. This is what she wanted though. Isn't it? 

"I'll be going to Smelly Nelly's. Aren't you worried I'll ruin it? After all, you're the one who gave me the nickname _Klutzilla,_ remember? _"_

Derek chuckles at the reminder. He nods, saying, "oh, trust me, I remember. But, we both know how precious that jacket is to me, and I have faith that you wouldn't risk spilling so much as a drop of water on it. Even for some terribly misguided revenge scheme. So, go. Have fun."

Casey stays silent, now the one rendered speechless — and uneasy. Her plan was to annoy him, to work him up, get... something out of him. And yet, it's failing miserably. She's really not sure what she was expecting. Maybe this is his way of winning yet again — turning her own plan around on her with that smug smile, watching her realize it isn't going to work.

Derek rolls his eyes when she doesn't move, staying glued to the spot, uncertain of what her next move should be. The hint of a smirk grows into a grin that she can't say she sees often with its lack of cruel amusement and its sincerity. He steps towards her, his hands outstretched.

"Case, seriously," he says, his hands landing on both her arms and squeezing gently, "I don't mind. But you should go before that changes and I decide that you looking good for a few hours isn't worth letting you walk around with my jacket on. Especially while being seen by other people."

"You think I _look good?_ " Casey repeats incredulously, her eyes narrowing. She attempts to shake his hands off her arms but only one slips, falling back to his side while the other stays curled around the fabric of his own jacket. "Do you have a fever? Are you sick? Is this some sort of post-breakup with Sally thing that's making you completely delirious?"

"Geez, you can't take a compliment, can you?" Derek says, raising his eyebrows. He brushes it off before she can cut in with a snarky response about how nothing that comes out of his mouth aimed at her is a compliment. "But before it goes to your head, leather jackets make everyone look good. It's their natural appeal."

Casey shakes her head, closing her eyes for a second to try and wrap her mind around what exactly is going on right now. The answer: she has no idea. She holds a hand up in between them and lifts her head back up to stare at him.

"So, let me get this straight," she starts, and he rolls his eyes, finally dropping his other hand, "you're willingly letting me leave the house with your jacket on when you had the TV up at full volume just to express how annoyed you were at me and Lizzie for taking it and refusing to give it back?"

Derek seems to think about, glancing over her shoulder before giving a shrug of his shoulder and turning his eyes back down to hers. 

"Well, I now know that you haven't done anything drastic to it or let Marti get her hands on it for some new project, so yeah, I'm good. Wear it all you want. But be back by midnight, Cindy," he jokes, winking at her as he takes a step back, "it might turn into rags on you."

Casey gapes at his back as he turns and walks back over to his chair, flopping onto it and kicking it back into position without another word. A big part of her wants to drag him back into this argument and force him to give the reaction she had planned out in her head that, now that she's really thinking about it, wasn't all that clear to begin with. The other part... doesn't.

It's infuriating that her plan didn't work, but she caves. Emily will already be waiting for her outside, and Derek's expecting her to go out. It'll look strange if she doesn't. 

Plus, she won't admit it out loud but an extra half hour more than she planned of wearing his jacket wouldn't be so bad. 

Pressing her lips together, she inhales and spins back around, opening the door and slipping out into the biting cold before she can talk herself back out of it. Her head turns at the last second before she closes the door behind her. 

She just catches a glimpse of a bright smile on Derek's lips, a little smug but mostly just... something she can't put her finger on. Then she's out of the house completely and turning to find Emily standing just down the path, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

"There you are," she says as soon as she hears the door close and Casey approaches her. "I was beginning to think you were never—" She stops, her eyebrows furrowing. "Are you wearing Derek's jacket?"

Casey glances down at herself, her hands automatically coming up to pull at it. Even with the night breeze swirling around her, filling the air with the scent of fall, that distinct sandalwood smell lingers. 

She smiles to herself without really noticing and nods. 

"Yeah," she says, and Emily raises her eyebrows, "it is. He... let me borrow it."

The surprise shows on Emily's face, and Casey can't say she blames her rapid blinking. 

"That was..." she seems to be at a loss for the right word, pausing as she eyes the jacket for a split second before settling on, " _nice_ of him. Have you two made up then?"

"Oh, definitely not," Casey says without missing a beat. She mirrors Emily, wrapping her arms around herself and consequently hugging the jacket closer to her. "But it's a start."

Emily rolls her eyes and makes a comment about them both being unbelievably stubborn with each other. Casey can't disagree, simply laughing as they begin walking down the street and in the direction of Smelly Nelly's. She doesn't unwrap her arms from around herself once, which is completely understandable considering the cold. 

Even Smelly Nelly's' warmest booth in the little restaurant has a chill that stops Casey from taking the jacket off, even when Emily does with her own. 

She isn't surprised when she walks back in the front door an hour later to find Derek still lounging in his chair. His eyes shift from the TV at the click of the door, looking over at her. His mouth curves into an open-mouthed smile as he raises his eyebrows.

"Didn't decide to ditch it in some bin after all," he says, his voice joking as she stops by the coat rack. His eyes dart over it and his smile grows. "And no damage to it as far as I can tell. You're really not good at this whole devious revenge thing, are you, Case?"

Casey rolls her eyes, but her face heats up. "Shut up. I just decided that it wasn't worth the two months of being grounded that I would have to endure if I had done anything to it. I don't plan on sinking to your level."

The words have barely the same amount of bite to them as they usually do. She blames the jacket, somehow, she's sure it's to blame. As ridiculous of a thought as it is, it still has her hastily slipping out of it. 

"You still don't believe that I didn't take your dream diary?" Derek asks, almost disbelieving as she manages to pull her other arm from the sleeve, the leather trying to cling to it. "Seriously, no offense, but I have no interest in your dreams. Especially whatever freaky Truman ones you're having in that head of yours."

Casey gasps, her eyes narrowing accusingly. "See! You have read it! How else would y—"

"You told me that!" Derek cuts in, his disbelief growing to incredulity. "Remember? At school? When you were going off on me about stealing it, and then up walks Truman, and you burst out some speech about how almost kissing him in your dream doesn't mean anything? Ringing any bells yet?"

Casey stops. Tenses, really, as does her heartbeat. She did say that. Not that she believes him (he's Derek, she doesn't believe a single word that comes out of his mouth unless he has undeniable proof). But hypothetically, on the off chance that he really hadn't taken her dream diary... that would mean _she_ had told Truman about her dreams.

The realization must show on her face because Derek almost seems sympathetic. Almost. The smirk and raised eyebrows cancel out any chance of that.

"See? I did nothing," he says, waving the remote, then points it at her. "In fact, I'm the victim here. You let your little sister steal my jacket and de-zipper it for nothing!"

Casey groans, closing her eyes in the hopes that maybe if she can't see him, she'll believe him less. It doesn't work. 

"Okay, maybe you didn't tell Truman about the dream," she reluctantly agrees, finally moving away from the door, his jacket still clutched tightly in her hand as she points back at him, "but you did take it! Or you had Edwin do it!"

Derek rolls his eyes and groans as well, loud and exasperated as he casts his eyes to the ceiling. "I didn't take it! And — if Edwin did, you can't blame me for that! The kid makes his own choices, punish him, not me. Though, I'm impressed by how long he's managed to keep up the innocent act."

"Well, he had a great teacher," Casey shoots back sarcastically. She throws the jacket onto him, shaking her head. "Here. You might as well take it back. I'm going to bed."

"Giving up so soon?" Derek teases, leaning back in his chair to grin at her as she walks around him. 

"I guess I am," she shrugs. She pauses on the first stair, turning back around, and sighs. "At least your jacket smells of my perfume now. It'll take at least a week for it to go away, so have fun with that."

Then she continues up the stairs, managing to cling to a hint of the smugness that she had felt earlier, before her plan had gone downhill. She glances back halfway up the stairs, watching as he stares down at the jacket with furrowed eyebrows. 

He holds the leather up to sniff it, and she has to bite back a laugh when he realizes she's right. It's definitely a good thing she decided to wear the strongest one she owns today. She waits for him to groan and try and figure out how to wash it without ruining it. 

He doesn't. Even from only the tiny sliver of his face that she can actually see clearly, she can't miss the twitch of his lips. A smile. He's smiling, still holding the jacket close like he's amused, almost _pleased._ Then he sets the jacket in his lap and turns his attention back to the TV, the volume considerably quieter now than it had been when she left. 

Stunned, confused, and many other things, Casey blinks, then forces herself to continue up the stairs to her bedroom. Even when she thinks she's won, Derek somehow manages to make it work in his favour. Though she can't figure out how this time, she just knows that she has somehow done exactly what he wanted. 

Sighing, she closes her door behind her, changes, then slips into bed. A few adjustments to her weirdly uncomfortable pillows later, she pulls out her dream diary. Never missing in the first place. 

She grimaces and considers going downstairs to apologize to Derek. Then again, he already has his jacket back, she reminds herself. An apology can wait until tomorrow. She closes her eyes and lets herself try to sleep, the covers pulled up around her. 

It almost doesn't feel right not to have the cold leather of Derek's jacket against her skin, keeping her warm, despite only wearing it for an hour or so. It was weirdly nice, and so what if she had maybe been trying to delay taking it off? When Max had given her his jacket, she hadn't wanted to take it off at all, not even to sleep, 

Her eyes fly open. She lays perfectly still in her bed, staring up at the ceiling as her heart knocks against her ribs, skittering all over the place. Those situations are entirely different. 

Max was her boyfriend, of course she didn't want to take his jacket off. It reminded her of him and was comforting to have a little piece of him with her constantly. 

Derek is... nothing about him could ever make her feel like that. It couldn't, and it can't. It's just a nice jacket.

She manages to drift to sleep with that thought in her mind, bouncing around and hitting off the little corners of doubt that threaten to burst the bubble she creates around it. It's the truth, she's sure of that, and she won't little a stupid voice that may or may not sound like Derek in the back of her head convince her otherwise. She can't. The tsunami of problems it would cause otherwise wouldn't be good for anyone, especially not her, and would only result in chaos. 

It's not denial if she tells herself it's true.


End file.
